


Letters

by Songofpsalms297



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angsty hopeful schmoop eventally, As of June 21 2019 this fic is complete, Characters are talking now, F/M, Just trying to keep up with them, M/M, Not completed, Other, gleefully adding more content, i am terrible with titles, i hope people read the tags, not in order though, not sure why it says that, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2019-09-02 20:17:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 7,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16794007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Songofpsalms297/pseuds/Songofpsalms297
Summary: Varric writes Cassandra a letter.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This began as an interesting experiment in telling a story just using the characters' respective voices. I didn't do as well as I had hoped. I beg your patience as I work the kinks in the story/plot line out.

Falling never felt so freeing before. I, I don't know where we go from here Cassandra, but I want to. Go. Us together. We've kicked a dark spawn magister's, well, let's just say, I'll be putting that in my resume from now on. 

Maker's -, i wish i could hear you laugh. Just for a minute. I wish I'd told you how I felt before, well. Let's just say, if you say no to this, we'll be a tale I'll never tell. 

Whose skirt am I blowing smoke up? I'm done with the tragic twisted love story. I want this, Cass, if you'll let me. I want you. I want the passion, the fire, being chased around the room by you because you wanna kiss me or strangle me, but haven't decided which it will be yet. I want to chase the blush across your cheeks, with my eyes, fingers, and lips. How's that for passion, Cass? 

I won't give up on us until you say you're done. Draw that line for me, and I won't cross it. You know that. Just say something, anything. I can't stand the silence. The glares are practically first base for you and me. The non-conversation, I can't do anything about that and it is killing me. The kid-, he 's avoiding me now. Says the song is broken.

Andraste's patterned knickers, Cass.  
I'll do anything you want, just.  
Say something.


	2. Varric to Bianca

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive the jostling of the chapters. As more of the story is written, there are holes that must be filled and mysteries that require resolution. Which prompts a shifting of the ordered story so far.

(found crumpled in a corner of an Orlesian weaponry shop. Some of the words are smeared with tears, there is grease on it in places)

I'm not bothering with this month's cipher because I am not interested in continuing this any longer. I am tired of being a dirty little secret. I'm getting to old for assassination attempts and furtive, cryptic messages.  
Your dad will appreciate this much more than you will, tell What's His Face, he's won. I am formally withdrawing my hat from the ring.  
I will cherish the time we did have. Our adventures and candlelit evenings, shared stories, joy, and pain. I know how much you hate to lose, but think of it this way. You can try for that little Bianca you have always wanted to have. Pass on some of your mechanical genius to mini-yous.  
My heart is withdrawn. It joyfully belongs to another.  
Don't worry about me ever telling our tale. I'll take that one with me to my grave. 

We are entirely done. I've already lined up another gear oil supplier.

As far as you and I are concerned though, don't bother contacting me again.


	3. Chapter 3

Varric-,

Do not. I cannot, not after-, please. I-

~~You ignorant~~

I am terrible with words. They give too much, or not enough away.

I am sorry for your- suffering. Do not surmise that you are alone in Cole's avoidance.

I am sorry. I cannot play at this. My heart -, I've never been able to wield subterfuge. Secrets and lies are your purview.

Do not cont-, you want the line? You arrogant bastard! You demand I set the bar for you?!

I trusted y-


	4. Chapter 4

Varric,

I demand to know the meaning of the flowers in my room this evening. 

Cassandra Pentaghast


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian

Amatus,

I know you are leaving today for that job in Tevinter. I trust you, I just. I'm sorry I snapped this morning. Worry gives me lines. I'm not as flawlessly gorgeous as I've convinced the world I am. I'm sorry but our dalliance must end if I'm to retain my youthful appearance. You were a lovely distraction. Have fun!

On to more serious matters, Beloved. I'm afraid I've "backed the wrong horse" or horses as it were. I might have to return the sovereigns I'd won off Ranier. Do you have any idea what happened between our two love birds? A week ago, they were happier than a necromancer on a bloody battleground. Now, they have reverted to Varric giving mooney eyes at Cassandra, and Cassandra glaring at said dwarf as if willing him to spontaneously combust. All whilst studiously avoiding one another's gaze entirely. Evie has come out of her Cullen induced fog and commented on the phenomenon specifically. 

If i knew what had happened, maybe I could help them. 

Dorian


	6. Chapter 6

Andraste's padded breastplate, Cassandra! What do you think the peonies are for?!

Look, will you give us one more chance?

Please?

I'll do better.

I'll _be_ better.

Please.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Iron Bull

Kadan,

You'll always be gorgeous to me. 

Especially with your robes on the floor. Debauched on my sheets. 

Regarding, Cass and Varric, i haven't heard much. Let me rephrase, I haven't heard much more than you at this point. If we're gonna intervene, I vote for locking them in a room in Val Royeaux for a week. See what happens.

At the very least, Varric should appreciate the trope. He's written it often enough in his stories.

See you in two weeks. 

Krem and the Chargers send their love.


	8. Chapter 8

( _On a crumpled, splotched paper, on the Inquisitor's desk, scrawled in a crabbed hand_ ),

Hurt boils on the edge of anger. Fear subsumes the aching beauty, consumes what once may have yielded to joy. Soon only recriminations will be left.

-Please don't let the struggling love die unremarked. Help them. Hurt, rejection blind hearts. Truth is obscured by agony.


	9. Cole

Evie has no idea what has happened to her merry band of found family.  
One moment they were celebrating the near miraculous defeat of an ancient Tevene crazier that a sack of hammers Darkspawn Magister.  
Then all the potential romances that had been percolating or simmering; in Varric and Cassandra's case, began to grow.  
The next moment, all hell had broken lose.  
She'd been mystified when she'd joined Cole in their regular reading spot to find the boy weeping.  
It had taken her most of the night to calm him down. He was murmuring over and over the same words.  
"I'm sorry, I tugged the wrong string and it broke."  
She coaxed the tightly held parchment from his hands. With his permission, she read. And then she knew. She called for a wartable meeting as dawn broke over the walls.


	10. Chapter 10

Master Tethras,  
I was indeed delighted by your request about my dear niece Cassandra. She does not contact me at all these days, in fact, we fell out of communication shortly after she was installed as a Seeker. I have fallen into that trap set by age and pride which snares most men of my time. I am speedily approaching the end of my life and i would dearly love to make amends before i pass beyond the veil.  
When Cassandra and her brother Anthony were first thrust into my care, I confess, i did not handle the responsibility at all well. I had very recently been appointed youngest archon to oversee the Grand Necropolis in my county's long history. Being keenly aware of my rivals scrutiny, and my young age, I was inclined to protect my position. i would become invaluable to Nevara, and the honored dead. I spent most of my time in the Grand Necropolis, overseeing older proven practices, researching newer and better ones. I was so pleased by my appointment and the status it conveyed, I confess I did not see it for the fetter it was until much later.  
I had striven to prove myself a capable necromancer to the exclusion of every other pursuit. This is a Pentaghast family trait. If you have spent any time at all with my dear niece, you have no doubt seen it in action. She has that same single mindedness that drives her as well. I doubt the Seeker order would have done anything other than cultivate it.  
Forgive an old man his droning on.  
You have my blessing, Sir. And as you are a writer of some note, I thought you might enjoy these old journals that belonged to my dear niece. Please ask her to write.  
I haven't much time left.  
Yours in anticipation,  
Vestalus Pentaghast  
Grand Necromancer  
Grand Necropolis of Nevarra City  
Nevarra


	11. Chapter 11

Leliana, Josie, Cullen,

Something terrible had come to my attention. It requires strategy and immediate action. Meet me at the war table as soon as you can. The situation is dire.

Evelyn Trevelyan Rutherford


	12. Chapter 12

Varric,

I don't know what the bloody hell is going on in your neck of the woods, but I've got an infuriated member of your Inquisition stomping through Kirkwall. I thought Aveline was going to snap her neck before she got to me. You know just how curiosity eats at me. Thank the Maker, Donnic talked Ave down so I could speak with your representative. 

I know it's not "your" Inquisition. I can hear your eyeroll from here. What happened up there? Last I knew, the score was Divinely Inspired Kids: 1, Creepy Old Magister with Delusions of godhood: nil. So why am I set to speak with an inquisition member, and it isn't even you?! Just how busy are you currently?

Are you let out of bed at all?

You and that gorgeous, leggy, dangerously sexy, brunette were threatening to set the furniture afire, there was so much tension between you two. You owe me 30 sovereigns, by the way. I lost to Rivani. She hasn't stopped gloating. 

Soothe my injured pocketbook, how goes the grand romance? She eating out of your hand yet?  
You still owe me for taking this damned chair and the crown that came with it. 

"Favorite Viscount" , my arse.

Hawke


	13. Chapter 13

Cass, 

I know how you struggle to let others know you. I haven't known you very long, but I feel close to you. Like sisters. At least, like my sisters in Ostwick. You listened to my fears about Cullen and I, have commiserated with me about the pigheadedness of men, the aristocracy, and low-level arrogant bureaucrats. We've spent interminable hours in the field, strategizing inn the fly. 

I know you are hurting, and suspect I know the cause. Please don't shut us all out. Let someone in. You've carried enough all on your own. Allow someone help you carry your pain, at least.  
In the long hours of everything, you don't have to be the sole bastion of righteousness. We're stronger together. 

Love,

Evie


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra responds to Evie

* * *

Evelyn,

I am, grateful for your offer. I cannot. Not yet. I am a romantic fool.

 ~~Despite my better judgement, and experience, I trus- I believ~~ -

I am sorry. It is far too soon.

Cassandra


	15. Chapter 15

Varric,

I really don't want to get into what is going on with you and Cassandra. I've seen too many people get hurt when one sticks their nose into others business. 

As a friend, I'm more than willing to listen should you need to talk. 

Cullen


	16. Chapter 16

Curly,

It's kinda funny that I'll be talking to you, of all people about my relationship issues. But what the hell. Meet you at the Rest at second bell? 

Varric

PS. Don't bring Waffles. She's worse than Sparkler for gossip. I love her to pieces, it's just-, my heart's been shredded enough.

Thanks.


	17. Chapter 17

Varric,

You are hilarious. 

Done.

Cullen


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varric

Cass,

Would you talk to me? We're working together for the good of puppies and Saturnalia, for Andraste's sake! I've tried everything but writing you more letters. This is the only option left to me though, so I'll take it. I know you'll at least skim a parchment with my handwriting on it, lest you miss an update of that thrice-damned serial you like so much. Maybe I should write us into one. Maybe you'd -, Maferath's pants.

I suspected you had shit taste when you _interrogated_ me in my **best friend** 's vacated house. You admitting to Waffles that you actually enjoy the tripe that is _Swords and Shields_ just solidified that face for me. I was speechless and sputtering there for a minute, in case she hadn't shared. You are glori-, nevermind. You obviously don't want-. 

Your bad taste gave me hope for us, in fact.

Just. Would you please?

Talk to me.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varric to Hawke

Hawke,

I don't know what in the bowels of the fade is going on. The dark and leggy siren who haunts my dreams, figuratively speaking as we dwarves don't dream, you ass, refuses to even speak to me. I'm damned if I know what's doused the fire. All I know is we had plans to take things slowly, romance and all that. I wrote her a little verse, (shut up), left half a dozen of her favorite flowers on her bed before she'd come home from the latest adventure our intrepid Waffles dragged her and Sparkler out on. 

Needless to say, when she knocked on my door the next morning, getting doused in cold, dripping flowers hadn't been in the plan. Neither had rewriting-, let's just say, I'm now dodging daggers from my editor. Yes, literally.

I'm mystified. Unless peonies, champagne, sappy love poetry, and Orlesian bonbons are suddenly anathema to Nevarran's for romance.

Who knows, maybe all that red lyrium exposure changed the weft of the world. I need some help. See what you can find out? I'll owe you. Which I'll repay with every sordid detail. I know how much my adventures in romance makes you laugh. Hug Daisy and the petals for me.

I guess that chapter of Hard in Hightown isn't going to rewrite itself.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabella

Varric,

I wanted to warn you that the next apocalypse is coming. Clear your calendar. Aveline and I both agree that you were being lazy when you doled out our nicknames. Red? Rivani? Please. I could and did do better.

\- Bella

PS. Our beloved viscount shared the most amazing jest with me whilst I was in port the other week. Apparently, I owe you 50 sovereigns?  
I laughed halfway to Seheron.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Advert.

Esteemed Master Tethras,

Your work order has been completed this 15th-day of Cloudreach, Dragon. We look forward to further opportunities for satisfying your requirements in the future.

Quivers Outfitters

for the Discerning Archer


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No letter this chapter. Varric.

He paced. Cold fingers slid from his scalp to tailbone. Growling he fought the urge to shred the parchment in his hands. All the pieces of the puzzle began to fall together. This was how he'd felt when Bianca had confessed her duplicity before. 

He'd never been the type to disparage a woman he'd loved, especially one he'd invested so much of himself in. He had convinced himself she was honorable despite their affair, Maker take him for a sodding fool. 

His body coiled tighter than the string of his crossbow, movements echoing the turmoil in his head. 

Bianca's duplicity once again ripped something away from him. The difference now was, he was going to fight her to regain it. 

He was going to do better. Figure out a way to make this up, mend things with -, if she'd even let him.

Suddenly he slid to the floor. A puppet whose strings had been cut.

Sod him, the mystery had been solved and he wasn't sure he'd even get the chance to make it right with the woman he l-. 

Shit.


	23. Tactics

Amatus,  
You would not believe the chaos currently running through Skyhold. The very stones are weary with mingled grief and fury. Cole has taken to disappearing moments before our beloved Seeker storms through the keep. This had been a boon to the nerves, as I can also disappear before she skewers me with one of her very demanding glares. For which I have no answers.  
She came blustering into Skyhold four days past. Dropped her horse's reigns into the nearest stable hand's lap, spun on her heel breathing violent threats against our favorite storyteller, raged off to the infirmary, her wrath carved a path through refugees, and visiting dignitaries like nothing I have ever seen.  
The boy, Cole, believes Cassandra's fury called the thunderstorm into existence; her anger was that palpable a thing.  
I do not know if you are aware of what had caused the rift between our lovers. As it will explicate matters I will give you the very basics, we can go into details when you are back where you belong. I know you will laugh at me, but I fear for your life. Please reassure Krem that I do not doubt his skill or his heart in protecting you, I fear for all of you. I fear that Viddisala will take his revenge upon you all.  
As you know, Cassandra left Skyhold in high dudgeon six weeks ago. This occurred mere fortnight since our lovers traded their first kisses beneath the Eluviestan moon, and I collected on our wager. I cannot give back the grapes you peeled for me, not do I wish to withdraw my gloating. You enjoyed it as much as I did, as I recall.  
She returned after having harried off chasing rumors of the origins of her order, seeking truth amidst the fabrications and myths, no doubt. As you recall, she returned a week after she had initially left. She has gone out several more times in the intervening time: a few days here, a week and a half there. Whenever she came back, she would studiously ignore Varric whenever they chanced to be in the same area, or she would leave as soon as he entered. His pleading looks are downright heart rending, Amatus. In addition, they had just barely begun. I am wretched at the thought that they might break before they began to dance.  
He tried desperately to get her to stay in the same room with him. There was one day when Cullen was running his troops through their drills; his shirt was off, Amatus. Evie and I were both drooling. Out of nowhere a clump of flowers, I believe they are Nevarran; fell upon the face of the recruit Cullen was sparring with at the time. I have never laughed so hard in all my life. The poor trainee thought it was some new distraction tactic!  
Even Cullen quailed at the expression on Cassandra's face as she emerged from her "quarters" and began to train with the dummies. Dagna was up all night for the next week working on some new designs that would allow Cassandra to vent her frustrations, but not break the Inquisition's coffers. She came up with some ingenious employment of dawn stone, silverite, and oak. They are marvelous! I am certain that Krem and the Chargers will make use of them as well.  
Both of their hearts are breaking and they are far too stubborn to do anything about it. I have not yet discarded the idea of locking them both in a sealed room with no clothing or weaponry until they work this nonsense out. My heart breaks for them Amatus. And for me. I want more grapes but have no one to peel them for me.  
Dorian


	24. Chapter 24

Skyhold Fortress Ferelden, 2 Bloomingtide, 9:42 Dragon, ~~I had almost completed my assigned patrol circuit when a pained shout pierced the air. I ran to the forge where the sound had come from, as i didn't see anything initially on the ground floor, i proceeded to the Lady Seeker's quarters to investigate the source of the sound and discovered the broken railing.~~

I understand these reports are required eventhough I have just left your office after my debriefing.

It's jarring to see a comrade in such a state.

I was making my circuit of Skyhold this afternoon. it was some time closer to the third bell than the second. During the time Cook puts the covered rolls on the window sill to rise.

I had just finished checking the stables and was heading up toward The Herald's Rest. As I was passing under the stone arch that lead from the stables and heading to speak with Scout Harding, I heard a percussive sound, and a shout, as of ppain.

Runningto the forge to discover the source of the sound, and discovered the broken railing. Entering the forge, I found one of Cook's runners screaming and pointing up where the Lady Seeker sleeps.

One of the rails was broken, and a bloodied hand was over edge, driping. I dispatched the child to the healer in preparation for what we might find upstairs.

At the top of the stairs, I saw the Lady Seeker's room had been destroyed. Flower petals were everywhere. Her books were reduced to shredded bits of paper and wood. More worrisome was the state of Messer Tethras. ~~He looked horrible~~

 ~~~~i bound what wounds I could while waiting for the healer to arrive.

I helped her carry Messer Tethras to the healer's tent. Returning to the Lady Seeker's room to gather any clues.

There were pieces of metal scattered about the room. Some pieces were driven into the walls and ceiling. 

The largest pieces gave the impression of having been part of a beautiful piece. 

As the rest of Skyhold, I add my prayers to Andraste for Messer Tethras' healing.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen

My Darling Firebrand,

Are you blushing my love? Recalling our last farewells, I blush over this parchment. Grateful I am alone in our chambers. I ache for your safe, and speedy return to my arms. On the other matter, you asked me to check into whilst you are gone.

I don't know if there is a remedy for our friend's utter heartbreak. It is as if his vibrance has been drained away by some demon. Indeed I asked one of the mages to scan the area to determine whether we were breached by some foul creature. The wards still hold. 

I do not know how Varric manages. If I'd have come so close to having you, but losing what we have just as it brushed my fingertips. I'm ashamed to admit I would have crawled into a bottle and not come out again. 

I would much rather share these words of grief with you curled up near our fire, however, as you are tramping through the "ass-end" of the Hinterlands, this letter must suffice. 

I fear our friends are both broken and via a malicious hand. At our agreed upon meeting time, I stopped by Varric's customary table as he and I were to go to the Rest this evening. Our friend was not in evidence. Instead, I found a weeping Cole, curled in Varric's chair. I confess I do not have the patience for the creature that the two of you have. 

Between the creature's sobs, I made out few words, though the ones I picked up, were remarkably similar to the parchment you found in the anonymous note. "Ground glass in the wound", "hopeful love turned gangrenous", "broken hearts", "deserved death knell". 

I scoured Skyhold for hours before coming upon our friend in the closet he resides in. For all the years I have known him, I have appreciated his loyalty, his cunning, his skill with his crossbow. I had never yet been terrified of him before. I had never seen him crazed with grief, guilt, and fear before. 

He was pacing fit to wear a hole in the floor, his hair stood on end as if it were resisting an onslaught. His eyes were those of a lyrium addict in the throes of withdrawl. He was muttering, words akin to Cole's ramblings. Chills dance across my skin, and still do at the remembrance.

I attempted to catch his attention to somehow ground him in the present, to no avail. I remained with him as he paced the night away, by turns seized by manic fits he would leap to his desk, quil in his grasp ready to write. Before the tip of the quill could touch the page, he would be posessed by a lassitude that would slump him to the floor beside it. Tears would roll slowly down his cheeks. 

Thank the Maker, Jim stopped by in the early hours of the morning. I will have to promote the man. It seems his inherent curiosity led him to do some good this time. I sent him to cook for hot tea and some of her famous sweet biscuits. The ones Iron Bull fawns over. 

We await the dawn.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke

Varric, You absolute ass! Why didn't you say something?!

Got the news from Evie. You're lucky Aveline and Merrill are too far along for the journey. If she leaves me, I'm moving in with you. On my way.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra responds.

Varric,

~~I am,~~

~~I,~~

~~You know,~~

I got Evelyn's letter today. ~~You great~~

~~Why didn't you say something?! Surely, you know I am not that unreasonable?!~~

~~Maybe you do not know me as well as either of us had hoped.~~

~~If you die, I swear to the Maker I will punch you in the throat.~~

I do not have the words.

I, I am afraid for you.

Your comrade in arms,

Cassandra Pentaghast


	28. Coming home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra and Varric have embarked upon a new romance. She comes back early and plans to wake him with a smile.

She shuts the door as softly as she can. She doesn't wish to wake her lover. He gets so little rest when he is researching a novel. And she so loves reading his works. A blush suffuses her as she recalls his teasing about her love of his writing. His offer to write more, specifically, if she would prefer. Her heart soars with joy. With a warrior's grace she spins lightly on the balls of her feet, and stops.  
Her heart is pierced. She glances down at her tunic, half-expecting to see the bloom of blood across her chest. There is none, though there should be.  
He lies asleep, contented smile upon his face. Her heart twists still further in her chest. This, he is a liar, she knows. He has many illegal things going on, she knows this too. He is still a little angry that she'd had him kidnapped and interrogated. She had thought they'd have the years to work it out. But this, this betrayal, she cannot endure.  
She was right. Her heart will not survive this.  
He is asleep, on the bed they made love on, with the journal her father had given her on her fifth birthday open on his broad chest.  
She cannot even fathom how he got hold of her oldest journal. She'd had it sent back to Uncle Vestalus' estate when she'd finished her Seeker's training. Wary of it being dammaged in travel or as she moved from barracks to barracks. He'd even sent her a note, appreciating the gesture and asking for her to begin corresponding with him. He'd even sent her a replacement journal as she'd filled the first one. Her refusal had been mute, though conclusive, and he'd stopped requesting responses, but had continuted to sent her replacement journals on her birthday every few years. It had been over a decade since she'd beheld it, though she would know it anywhere.  
Unlike the subsequent journals, her first one was made from the softest nugskin, as her father had said when presenting it to her, "just right for a young lady to begin keeping her thoughts in". The nugskin was stained and bald in many places. It was "well-loved" as her mother was find of saying.  
It had taken weeks for her to begin to stain it's pages.  
Cassandra had never really been comfortable using words to get her point across. Something that caused problems for her when she was older. She was more apt to use her fist to make her statement than argue a point.  
Across the parchment, Cassandra would draw out her future adventures dragon slaying with Anthony.  
On the inside front cover were the watter spotted words,  
"To Our Beloved Cassandra, do not continue to keep your most precious thoughts inside. These pages will happily be your confedant. We love you, dear heart. Mother, Father, and Anthony."  
She'd finally decided she would draw her dreams instead of trying to find the words that could express it all.  
She'd proudly shown her family her future plan. It was a drawing of Anthony and herself facing off against a fearsome dragon. Stalwart and fierce dragon slayers that they were, they had their swords and shields, Antony was tall with whorls for his curls. She had given herself braids. In her scene, the dragon had just released a cloud of fire at them and she and Antony were rushing toward danger to save helpless villagers somewhere.  
With subsequent journals, she'd revised the scene. As her drawing abilities had improved, she'd learned to add texture to her drawings. The stick figures she'd used initially had become recognizable forms, and the dragon had changed from an amorphous being breathing flame to a Visomer, or (insert other dragon). While she'd never been able to employ the words she desired, her drawing ability had drastically improved over the years. She had a few charcoal sketches she'd done of Varric. One where he'd fallen asleep while they were on a mission to the Hinterlands. They'd finished scrabbling for meat, blankets, and supplies for the refugees, and once they'd returned to Dwarfson's pass, he'd leant against a trunk, and promptly dropped off. Her fingers had itched to capture him in repose. She hadn't known why, just that it was something important. Perhaps she'd done it because he had scowled so much in her direction that she'd needed to have a record that he was capable of other expressions. And perhaps one day he'd show one to her.  
She had others of him cheating at cards, weilding the magic of one of his tales, and one with his head thrown back in laugher, eyes dancing merrily. This picture also had a hand near his ear, Hawke had just finished whispering in his best friend's ear.  
She'd always wished for all her proficiency with drawing, that she'd been able to wield words as well. That was something that the man sleeping before her never ceased teasing her about. Her inability to add life or excitement to her reports, they were always dry. Bald statements of fact, colors, events.  
Taking in his face, slack with sleep, his silken hair spread carelessly on his pillow. His boots were still on. Ink drying in the nub of his favorite quill, parchment near his writing hand, ink bottle open. She makes an abortive movement to cap the ink, or brush that lock of blond from his forehead but sees again her journal open on his chest. She allows the fury of this betrayal to infuse her with the strength she will need to do what is necessary. Once more she sees the crate, vomiting sawdust and books, and Vestalus' mark. Her nails have pierced her palms, she has become aware, by the sensation on her knuckles. As if something wet were gathering there just before falling to the ground. Tears of grief, mourning what had never really had a chance to live.  
Moving as silently as possible, she doesn't wish to wake him. Cannot stomach the confrontation that will occur if those warm amber eyes connect with her own. She gathers the journals with her sketch on them and places them in the crate, easier transportation. She gathers the bits of her things she'd left behind on previous visits. One of her favorite earrings, Anthony had given her the pair for her ninth birthday. She'd worn them the night she and Varric had made love. She couldn't find the other. She'd have to ask him for it later.  
Contemplating how she will take that first journal from him, she resolves not to speak. she will not. If she does, she will break, and lose her self respect. It is already hanging by a thread.  
Steeling herself, she snatches the last precious bit of her childhood from his sleeping grasp. Dropping it atop the others, she kneels to pick up the crate.  
His rogue's reflexes kick into high gear as soon as he feels the nugskin slid through his fingers.  
His right arm bands across her chest like iron, and his left holds his blade at her throat. He has not fully awakened yet, and he's ready to slit the throat of whomever this intruder might be. Foggily he knows his beloved won't return for another sennight.  
She breathes deeply of him, before she steels herself to go. She growls his name.  
"Varric."  
and the blade drops to the ground. He's awakened enough to hear the cold fury in her voice but not awake enough to figure out why?  
Her heart's fury cracks further when he greets her joy, warmth, and welcome as well as sleepy trepidation coloring his tone.  
"Cass! I thought I'd be stuck without you for another sennight! Come to bed?"  
She's overwhelmed by rage. She bolts to her feet. His gaze becomes marred by confusion. She'd forgotten that sleep made his voice raspy.  
"Cass?"  
She can manage only one word. One word to tell him she is aware of his betrayal, oen word to tell him the depth of this pain. Of what he has done to her. That their relationship is over. He has hurt her for the last time.  
"Don't."  
She leaves him hurt, confusion etched on his face. She almost falters, part of her screams this isn't right, she's misunderstood something. But the wound is too deep, too fresh to examine things, she leaves him in his boots, a handful of paces from the door.


	29. Healing

Swimming toward consciousness, he becomes aware of a gentle brush of something soft across his brow. The sweet scent of peonies drifts past his nose. He hears a quiet voice speaking quickly, he can’t catch what’s being said. The voice comforts him though, bringing peace and warmth. It sounds so much like the voice he’s been denied for so long, her voice. (notes to fill in) from sigh to surrender.

His brows shift in confusion. He doesn’t understand why suddenly he is hearing her voice. There was such finality in her last word as she turned and left. He doesn’t understand why their bliss was shattered. If she had only listened, let him tell her, but she refused.

He had lost track of the number of times he’d written to her, begging for an audience. As a petitioner to his sovereign. He feels his lips quirk, she’d be furious at the comparison, insisting they were equals in every way.

He’d come back from a side mission for Waffles, and had found the crate in his room. He’d opened it as it had his name on it and he’d sent out letters to publishing houses in Nevarra looking for old Nevarran children’s stories. He wanted to gather some of her favorites, and surprise her with them when he worked up the courage to ask her for forever.

When he’d shifted the packing material aside, seeing the first book, he opened it. It was the softest nugskin binding he’d ever felt. As if the book had been carried around, everywhere. As he investigated it further, he saw the cover was stained, with ink, and mud, some places on the cover worn shiny. Curiosity getting the best of him, he cracked the book open.

The crude drawing caught his eye first. It appeared to be two stick figures, one with long “hair”, both brandishing sticks at a blobby monstrosity. The large blob appeared to have it’s “mouth” open toward the figures, projecting something toward them. It had a deep vee between its eyes.

The caption, written in a child’s scrawl gave him context.   
“Me an Antony fight the Bad, Mean dragon! We win.”

His heart had overflowed for the illustrator and their “Antony”, whoever this child was or had been. Then the inscription caught his eye. After reading the words, realization struck. This book at least belonged to the leggy brunette seeker he’d spent the better part of the month “courting”.

Once he realized the journal in his hands was Cassandra’s, he refused to read further. He drifted to sleep, imagining her as a child with merry amber eyes, her long ebony braids bouncing as she brandished her chosen “sword” at whatever “dragon” caught her fancy.

He wasn’t even aware of the smile that graced his lips.

His heart sank as he remembered that was all past now. Their future ripped away by a misunderstanding. Guilt pierced him, remembering how the Kid had begun to avoid his company. Varric remembers the last almost apologetic comments before he couldn't find the Kid around Skyhold anymore. With a sorrowful face Cole looked at Varric while backing away. Cole's soft voice whispered on the wind after he disappeared around the parapet. 

“Broken songs bleed red. And no word cuts deeper than assassin’s blades.”

Curious as to the identity of his companion, he opened his eyes, finding a vision sleeping in the chair next to his bed. Hope sufuses him, the sensation so unexpected that his hands flex. His hiss of pain causes her to bolt upright.

“Healer! He’s awake! Come quickly!” Trying to not focus on the fire that blazes through his hands, he drinks in the sight of her face. There are tear tracks rolling down her face. He is further surprised to note that there are fresh tears tracing their way down her cheeks even as she waits for the healer to bustle in.

“We must talk.”

His heart is a foolish thing and tears at her words. She is speaking to him for the first time in six weeks. Her dulcet tones reminding him that there is pain now between them. Something fractured that may never mend. Her blush catches him off guard.

Tentatively, he reaches toward her with a thickly bandaged hand.

“Cass?” Questions stampede his lips, threatening to spill. He is startled further by more tears flowing freely down her face. Her hands rise, finger still the questions on his lips.

“Varric,” her voice breaks. The healer bustles into the room. She's a severe woman, capable and diligent, with clipped, acerbic tones. Her kindnesses are seen in the gentle way she tends to her wards' injuries. 

"Seeker Pentaghast, I will require your help with the bandaging of Messer Tethras' hands. If you would." He reads the apology in her eyes seconds before firey agony shoots through his hands and up his arms. The pain is so powerful he vomits on himself moments before darkness takes him once more.   



	30. Epilogue

Twenty-five years have passed since the Inquisition was disbanded. Longer since they decided to risk their hearts in one another’s hands. His writing has gotten better. Her’s has not. He steps over the threshold of their modest home. He refused the “palace”, she hates them still. He’d heard her muttered, “Ostentatious display”, as they had walked through the Viscount’s Keep. Had barely managed to smother his grin, he needed Bran to continue working for him. The man was amazing.   
He lets his eyes trace the walls and floor of their home. There are murals everywhere. She’s taken his works, and selected scenes from their life and transformed this little cottage into a home for them all.  
Their house has overflowed with life this past 25 years. The pitter patter of little feet in his huge (by comparison) combat boots, the giggling joy of children at play. These rooms have known adult joy and laughter as well as deep abiding pain.   
The agony of a child waited for, but never seeing the light of day.   
The revelation that they had trusted a healer who had their own agenda, their own belief that half-dwarven children were an abomination to Andraste or the Maker.  
That healer had disappeared one day shortly after the loss of their child. Neither Varric nor Cassandra knew, or cared to discover the reason for the bastard’s disappearance.   
Their promised, hoped for gift from the Maker had been ripped away from them. The darkness came over them then. That absolute blackness that swallows everything good. For a long time they mourned that loss. It stiffled all the pleasure they took in their day to day tasks. Smothered their happiness, until one day they realized the darkness was less than it had been. It was a little easier to laugh, to smile, to just enjoy.  
The day came when Cassandra realized she was pregnant again. That first fragile hope that danced in her eyes, fear overwhelming it until he’d asked Daisy to come and be her midwife.  
Daisy, being Daisy, had moved in for a year. Hawke had come as well. The second pregnancy had gone far better than the first, the laughter and company had gone hand in hand with healing their hearts from the damage done the first time around.   
Varric had come home from celebrating with Hawke piss-drunk so often, Cassandra and Daisy had banished them to the guest suites.   
Varric’s heart had swelled even more with love for her. She blossomed under Daisy’s care. Daisy and Hawke had not had any children at that point and were still protesting the desire to do so, but Daisy’s training as a keeper to the Dalish had included midwifery.   
Cassandra and Varric’s gifts arrived one tempestuous night in Harvestmere. One bright amber eyed little girl with golden fuzz, one bright chocolate eyed little boy with ebony fuzz. Cass had cried when she held them.  
“He looks like Anthony, I would like his name to be Anthony.” Varric couldn’t deny her anything.   
Looking at Hawke, he asked, “I’d like to name her Bethany, in honor of Sunshine.”  
Hawke’s eyes overflowed with tears, nodding quickly, he had left the room.   
It was all so long and so short a time ago.   
Hawke and Daisy had lived with them until a month after the twins had been born. Then they’d purchased the place next door. Within five years they had their own little ones.  
Bethany and Anthony had driven him grey. They had gotten into everything, partners in crimes that only 5 year olds can come up with. Cass had gotten grey along with him.   
Little Aveline and Fenris were a year and two younger than the twins. The four children had kept their parents and half of the Guard up most nights during their growing up.   
But they had grown into responsible adults.   
Bran and Orana had gotten together as well. They had adopted one of the Coterie’s cast off children, and he’d become a solid citizen. He had a good heart and had inherited Bran’s duties as Seneschal and he carried them well. Varric and Cassandra had approved his suit for Bethany, after Bethany had threateded to run away with him unless they approved.   
So, he and Cass had agreed.  
And so, here they were a quarter of an age since the big scary magister had been defeated, Varric had assumed the viscountship when Hawke had asked him to. And embarked upon the scariest journey so far. 

He couldn't wait to hold Cassandra through this next chapter of their lives.   
Andraste's feathered knickers but he was one lucky dwarf.


End file.
